Oliver raced to my porch holding a drawing in one hand and a bundle of paper stars in the other.

Emma followed carrying her picture for the family-photo tree.

Daniel came up the path with a covered roasting pan, and Claire balanced two bags of vegetables.

They stopped on the porch, smiling.

For one strange second I saw the other Christmas, when I had stood outside with food and presents and no place at the table.

Then Daniel reached for the doorbell, and I opened it wide.

“Merry Christmas,” I said.